Vengeance, Indeed
by ceridwyn penn
Summary: In response to TPMM's 'Highly Unlikely' Challenge. Snape reluctantly agrees to chaperone a summer field trip to Paris with the new Hogwarts Healer. SS-OC.


Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling. No material profit will be sought or accepted

Saturday, 20 June

The late afternoon sun slanted in through the westward windows, filtering through sparkling spirals of dust and bathing the second floor corridor in a golden haze. All the halls of Hogwarts had achieved their blessed summer silence, save this one. The sharp drum of booted footsteps echoed in the deserted passageway as Severus Snape stalked to the Headmaster's office in a swirl of midnight robes. He was due to leave for his summer holiday in – he checked his watched with an irritated jerk of his wrist – a little over fourteen hours. He really should be packing.

"Tootsie pop," he barked at the gargoyle – did he just imagine that it smirked? – and stepped onto the rotating staircase, a thunderous scowl settling upon his brow. When he reached the top, he found that the heavy oak door was wide open, and Albus was seated at his desk, sharing a spot of tea with – oh no.

Snape growled with displeasure as he recognized the rumpled robes, messy hair, and perpetually wilting hat of one Mistress Marianne Murdoch, Hogwarts' resident Healer. She had joined the staff at the start of the term, replacing Madam Pomfrey, who retired on the verge of a nervous breakdown after the Second War. In Severus' opinion, it was a sorry exchange. His relationship with the previous nurse had suited him just fine: he supplied the potions, she healed the students. However, Mistress Murdoch was not content to fall into Poppy's practical, perfunctory place. The damned woman was, as she reminded him nearly daily, a fully trained mediwitch, not merely a nurse, and worse, a self-professed lover of potions. In the course of the past ten months, Murdoch had attempted ad nauseam to strike up a friendship with him, despite his total lack of receptivity.

Well, perhaps not total. Murdoch herself was a rather appealing person: bright, good-natured, and possessing a certain droll wit that alternately charmed and chafed him. She had taken his place of honor as the youngest person on staff and the sheer fact of their closeness in age and shared interests made them natural candidates for some sort of friendship. He had originally felt inclined to like her, until she proved herself to be persistently meddlesome. Not to mention disorganized. And argumentative. Her presence in Dumbledore's office boded ill for him.

"Ah, Severus, here you are." Dumbledore waved him in with a grin. "Please sit down. Will you take a cup of tea?"

"No thank you, Headmaster." Severus nodded to Murdoch as he took his seat. He laced his hands together, extending his index fingers to form a little steeple, which he pressed to his lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your kind invitation?"

"Straight to the point, eh?" Dumbledore winked at him, ignoring the sarcasm in his question. "I understand you are leaving for Italy in the morning, so we should keep this brief. Marianne has an excellent idea and we'd like to enlist your help. You are, if I am not mistaken, the keynote speaker at the annual meeting of the International Society of Potions Makers in August?"

"I am," Severus replied, a sinking feeling settling in his gut.

"And perhaps you are aware that Marianne will also be giving a lecture at that conference?"

"I was not, but congratulations. I suppose I shall see you there." Murdoch smiled and tipped her head. He found the mischievous glint in her eye unquestionably discomfiting.

"I dare say you will," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Marianne has suggested that the two of you escort a small group of rising seventh years to the conference. Only the most accomplished students, who have expressed an interest in a career in Potions or Healing, of course."

"No." The single syllable reverberated off the round walls of the Headmaster's office, a deep, long 'O' that cut off with a crack, like a door slamming shut. Snape forced every ounce of authority he possessed into that one little word. The smiling witch next of him blinked and frowned, but Dumbledore continued to beam placidly, twinkling ever on. Damn him.

"Severus…" Murdoch wheedled. "Just hear me out. It's not a bad plan."

"Mistress Murdoch, 'bad' does not begin to describe the abysmal folly you have proposed. Your suggestion is nothing short of excremental."

The Healer's dark eyes rolled straight to the ceiling and she pursed her lips disapprovingly. "It's only for one weekend, Severus. It's not as if I've asked you to teach summer classes, for heaven's sake."

"You could hardly have done worse," he snapped. "Surely you realize what an honor it is for me to have been asked to give the keynote lecture. The very last thing I need is a smattering of dunderheads on hand, guaranteed to make a spectacle of themselves and a fool of me."

"Really, I think you're being rather ridiculous. The students I've selected are all very mature and responsible. They'll be ecstatic to be invited and I'm quite sure they'll take it seriously."

"And, who, exactly, are these extraordinary creatures?" Snape leaned over the arm of her chair to peer at the bit of parchment she clutched, which clearly contained a list. She snatched it away from him with a disgruntled huff and held it before her face, reading off the names.

"Eyad al-Akbaar, Kathleen Arnold, Meredith Keller, and Nicodemus Snee, who all plan to go into Healer training. And then for the Potions students, Fergus Boot, Morgan Teutlebaum, and Zookstaf Zim."

Irritation nipped at Severus' nerves. She really was a presumptuous little thing, even if she had listed the very students he would have picked if he had any intention of participating in her preposterous field trip.

"Excuse me, but I believe I am the Potions Master at this school," he reminded her snidely. "I am quite capable of selecting my own students."

She narrowed her eyes and curled her lip, tossing the list at him. "Fine. You pick your own students then. I don't think you'll find a more deserving lot, but by all means, if they won't do, choose others."

Realizing he'd almost walked into her trap, Severus quickly backpedaled. "I was merely commenting on your unfortunate habit of overstepping your bounds, Mistress Murdoch. The question of which students shall be invited to the conference is moot, as I won't be inviting any."

"I'm afraid I won't take no for an answer, Severus," Murdoch replied with an insouciant grin.

"Then may I offer: absolutely not, under no circumstances, not for all the galleons in Gringotts, crazed centaurs couldn't drag me to do it, Hell will freeze over first, there is absolutely nothing you could do or say to convince me, this is my conference and I intend to enjoy it which I cannot do with bothersome brats underfoot, so forget it, Mistress. In short, no. Or make that, _nein_."

Murdoch opened her mouth to retort, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance, but Dumbledore cut her off with a conspicuous clearing of his throat. "Perhaps Severus and I might be able to reach a consensus on this matter after we discuss some more…personal subjects. Do you mind, Marianne?"

"Not at all," she replied, rising and slipping between their chairs with a grace incongruent with her disheveled appearance. "I'll expect word from one of you by tomorrow morning? If I don't see you before you leave, have a lovely holiday, Severus."

"Thank you," Snape bit out between gritted teeth. He was openly glaring at Dumbledore, feeling the Headmaster's dismissal of Murdoch concealed a threat to him. What 'personal matters' could be pertinent to a silly school retreat? As soon as he heard the door shut, he pounced.

"I don't know what you're up to Albus, but if you think for a second I'm going to give into this ridiculous scheme, you're mistaken. You know that for my sanity's sake, I need to be free of students for the summer. I won't compromise this convention to please an aspiring Teacher of the Year. Who is not, I remind you, actually a professor at this school."

"I am well aware of Marianne's employment status," Dumbledore replied mildly, his trademark twinkle surfacing even in his voice. He pulled open a desk drawer and rummaged briefly before withdrawing a roll of parchment, which he held up and unfurled. "I believe you will recognize this?"

Did he ever. He had filled it out every single year, for eighteen years. It was the preliminary application for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Snape narrowed his eyes. "I suppose this is relevant?"

"I believe it is," Dumbledore replied, meeting Snape's furious gaze with one its equal in tranquility.

"I'm listening," Snape snarled grimly.

"Severus, don't look at me like that. I'm not trying to antagonize you – I would love to offer you this post." Snape raised his eyebrows dubiously, and Dumbledore shook his head. "However, I simply cannot replace a teacher of your caliber with someone of only mediocre talent. Don't you think it would behoove you to tear a page out of Marianne's book and take an active interest in the post-Hogwarts careers of some of your students? Some of your students who might, for instance, become candidates to replace you as Potions Master? It's just a thought." Dumbledore busied himself with re-filing the application, not quite hiding the smile that appeared beneath his voluminous moustache. "Let me know what you've decided before you leave, hmm? I'll need to—"

"I'll do it," Snape spat angrily. "But I am not spending a single second more than necessary with them. All of these students are of age; I expect they can take care of themselves and will require very minimal supervision."

"Of course," Dumbledore soothed. "Do let Marianne know, will you? She'll be delighted."

"I'll bet."

Speak of the devil, she just happened to pop around the corner of the dungeon corridor as Severus stalked back to his rooms.

"My, my, Mistress Murdoch," he hissed, not at all in the mood to endure her gloating. "You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places."

"I, um…just needed to check the Potions inventory. Before I close up the hospital wing for the summer." Marianne stammered out her excuse without quite meeting his eye, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Fascinating," Snape replied dryly. He knew she was dying to hear whether or not he had agreed to chaperone her circus. He was willing to bet, even, that it was her entire purpose for being in the dungeons in the first place, despite her lame excuse, and he was equally _un_willing to volunteer the information.

Marianne finally looked him in the face, half-smiling and chewing her lip. A faint dimple made a fetching appearance in her left cheek, and the combination of anxiety and hopefulness in her expression disarmed him a little. She was not reveling in her triumph. Yet. Still, he refused to grant her the favor of admitting he had capitulated, and as the silence stretched between them, his amusement grew in direct proportion to her discomfort. She shifted her weight to one foot, scratching her calf with the blunt toe of her shoe. Finally, after a good minute of looking up at him with an expression remarkably akin to a puppy begging for a biscuit, she planted both feet firmly on the floor and brought her hands to her hips.

"So, are you going to do it?"

He narrowed his eyes and frowned down at her. "Against my better judgment, yes. But I assure you, Mistress, that should the tiniest detail go awry, I will be extremely put out. And I will hold you personally responsible."

Murdoch rolled her eyes, her trademark sass returning full force. "Oh good grief, Snape, don't threaten me. What are you going to do, give me detention?"

Snape stepped forward, causing the Healer to back up to the wall. Her eyes widened, the rich, espresso-colored irises seemingly magnified by the low torchlight reflected in their depths.

"I am warning you, Mistress," he murmured. "I will find a way to make you pay for ruining this conference for me. And believe me, vengeance will be very sweet." He purred the threat as if it were a promise, and was startled to register the desire that smoldered in her eyes. How interesting. The flame flickered only briefly, before Marianne drew herself up and looked properly annoyed.

"You are entirely too used to having your own way," she snapped. "What utter nonsense. Vengeance, indeed!" She snorted derisively and made an attempt to move past him, but he blocked her way.

"Tell me, Mistress," Snape hissed, leaning so close to her that he could almost feel the delicate curve of her ear against his lip. "Are you really so desperate to get close to me that you would enlist the Headmaster and a gaggle of students as your accomplices? If you have your heart set on spending time with me over the summer, I assure you there are better ways to go about it."

Obviously he had struck a nerve; a rosy flush stained her skin from collar to crown. However, when she stepped back to meet his eye, her expression was hard and angry.

"You flatter yourself, Professor," she replied coolly. "Indeed, I can't imagine a less likely route to your bedroom than one lined with students. You seem to forget that I have also been invited to this conference. If I intended to seduce you, I believe I could manage it without accomplices and I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to create obstacles. Good day!"

She shoved past him and stormed up the steps to the entrance hall, her posture rigid with fury. Snape watched after her contemplatively. She had certainly offered a sensible retort, but he didn't believe it for a second. How could it have escaped his attention all of these months that Marianne Murdoch's constant clamoring for his attention was laced with a healthy dose of lust? And all this time he had just thought she was unusually fond of potions. He chuckled to himself. At least he'd found a route to exact his punishment for her infernal meddling. Vengeance? Indeed.

Friday, 7 August

Marianne sat alone in the Rose Parlor at the Leaky Cauldron, absently stirring her coffee as she waited for Severus and the students to arrive. She hoped, rather fervently, that the children turned up before their Potions Master. For the first time since she'd met the man, she honestly had no desire to be alone with him. Her cheeks grew hot even thinking about their last conversation – had she really been so obvious? How long had he known that she fancied him? i Fancied /i seemed hardly the word – more like desired him with an intensity that lay somewhere on the scale between "the force of a stunning spell" and "the heat of the sun." She supposed she was daft for thinking he wouldn't notice. Subtlety certainly wasn't her strongest suit.

The swish of the door against the plush carpet drew her attention away from her embarrassed reverie and, damn it. Like a shadow, the tall, black-clad figure of Severus Snape slid into the room and shut the door firmly. Marianne unfolded her legs from their curled position to rise and greet him, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't get up."

His low, honeyed tone caused a shiver to crawl up her spine. He looked, well, delicious wouldn't be far off. Instead of his standard, billowy school robes, he wore a more casual frock, which fit snugly across his slim torso and fell in rich, black folds from his hips to the floor. A single row of black buttons, slightly offset to the left, glittered from his waist to his high collar. He crossed the room in three long slides and settled lithely on the sofa next to her, stretching his arm across the back of the loveseat so that it rested behind her shoulders.

"Mistress Murdoch, you look enchanting, as always," he murmured sleekly, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth in a gesture of what had to be mocking chivalry. His obsidian eyes never left hers as he pressed his warm lips to her cool fingers.

"What's gotten into you?" Marianne laughed, snatching her hand back and struggling to sound nonchalant, despite the furious pounding of her blood in her ears. She knew she was blushing.

"Surely you can't be as unused to compliments as your graceless retort would suggest," he replied silkily.

"From you, I am," she snapped. "But forgive me. I thank you for your kind words and return the sentiment sincerely." She inclined her head with exaggerated formality and a saccharine smile. Snape chuckled, an unreadable expression glinting in his eyes.

A hesitant knock on the door ended the bizarre interlude. "Come in," Marianne called cheerfully.

All seven children shuffled into the room en masse. Marianne was willing to bet they had lurked in the corridor until each and every one arrived to avoid passing a single uncomfortable moment alone with their saturnine professor. They eyed Snape warily as they edged around the room, stuffing themselves into the opposite corner next to a bookcase.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Marianne chided them gently. "Come sit down. We won't bite." She was acutely aware that Severus' arm still stretched familiarly behind her back, and hoped it didn't look odd. The students reluctantly took their seats across from them and stared at the floor.

As soon as they seated themselves, Snape rose to his feet and terrified them all with a sweeping glare. "Before we transport to Paris, I think it fitting to remind you that you are all here at our invitation. Therefore, your behavior reflects directly upon Hogwarts, Mistress Murdoch, and myself. You are expected to comport yourselves with the utmost dignity and decorum. Failure to do so will result in my extreme displeasure. Do I make myself plain?" They all nodded avidly. "Fine. Then lets get going."

Marianne stood up and placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Actually, two more rules, Professor." He raised a black eyebrow and surveyed her with an expression of strained curiosity. "We will be taking all of our meals together as a group, and Professor Snape and I expect to be apprised of what you've learned in lectures at that time, so pay attention and take notes." Marianne studiously avoided Severus' glare, knowing he expected no such thing. "Also, you have a midnight curfew. We will be conducting room checks each evening, understood?" The kids nodded mutinously, obviously displeased with the idea, but Dumbledore had insisted. "Good. _Now_ lets get going."

She held out a moldy old newspaper and checked her watch. "The portkey is set for seven thirty-five. Everybody grab hold." The children all reached forward and gripped some piece of the damp wad of papers. Snape casually laid one long, pale finger along the edge, and then, to Marianne's surprise, brought the other hand firmly to rest against the small of her back. She gasped, a second before the portkey jerked them into the lobby of most famous magical hotel in Paris, _Le Dragon et Le Phénix_.

Her feet slammed into the marble floor and she stumbled, but Snape curled his arm around her waist and hauled her to his side, supporting her weight. For a shaky second, she reveled in the unexpected pleasure of finding herself fully pressed against him – at his invitation, no less – but she quickly straightened and stepped away, smoothing her robes with trembling hands.

"Everyone all right?" she asked brightly, as the students picked themselves up off the floor. She snuck a curious sideways glance at Snape and found him staring at her with a faint smile on his lips. She cleared her throat and looked away. "I'll go check us in."

Sinking onto the soft silver and blue coverlet of her bed, Marianne kicked off her shoes and rolled her neck. The lectures were fascinating, but she felt a little tired, perhaps because she had barely slept night before, she was so worried about facing Severus. What a turn the tide had taken! He was being positively flirtatious. As much as Marianne enjoyed it, she couldn't help but suspect he was up to something. The Snape she had known for the past year, though elegant and refined in a sardonic sort of way, was about as chivalrous as a hog. This new Snape was quite the gentleman, offering arms, opening doors, and pulling out chairs. He also seemed to have completely given up speaking to her in a normal tone, in favor of purring in her ear. She certainly couldn't complain, but if he was setting out to reduce her to a puddle, mission accomplished. And that was what bothered her – why the sudden change of heart? He was obviously still angry with her about inviting the students; he had made that clear as he escorted her to lunch. Just before they entered the dining room, he had drawn her aside behind a large potted plant and pressed her up against the wall (his favorite intimidation tactic, and rapidly becoming hers, too).

"Just so you know, I am still quite annoyed with you. When did you plan to tell me I'd be sharing all of my meals with these miserable clods?" As he said this, his dark eyes had bored into her own, then dropped to her lips and lingered. Marianne licked them self-consciously and he smiled. She took a deep breath and tried not to look flustered.

"I planned on telling you exactly when I did, and not a second sooner," she replied firmly, lifting her chin in challenge.

"You never told _me_, Mistress. You told the clods."

"I didn't want to give you a chance to say no."

At that, Snape had laughed and then drawn very close to her, his lips brushing her ear. "At least you're honest, sometimes. But now you really have spoiled this conference for me, Murdoch. How ever will you make it up to me?"

It was all she could do not to moan. The combination of his intoxicating voice, indecent proximity, and unmistakable invitation turned her knees to jelly. "What do you have in mind?" she had murmured.

"Right now," he replied, "I have in mind that you will have lunch with the brats and let me read over my notes for this evening. After that, we'll talk again." He stepped back and ran one large, sensitive hand down her arm, grasping her fingers and pulling them through the crook of his elbow.

"Fair enough," Marianne had replied, hoping that her cheeks weren't the exact shade of the crimson curtains. Before they parted ways, he had lifted an eyebrow and inclined his head with a smirk.

"Until…later, Mistress."

Exhaling heavily, Marianne massaged her temples and wiggled her feet back into her shoes. Severus was to give the keynote lecture in half an hour, so she had better round up the students and shepherd them to the Royal Hall now. He would absolutely have her head on a stick if they were late. Standing up, she glanced at herself in the mirror and sighed. Her robes looked a little wrinkled after sitting in lectures all day. She pulled the rich garnet material taut and aimed a smoothing charm at the fabric, but as usual, it did little good.

"You'd better change, dear," the mirror advised. "That gown needs a full steam press."

"I don't have anything else to wear," Marianne protested.

"What about the sapphire velvet robes I saw you put in the closet?" asked a melodious voice behind her. Marianne glanced up at the portrait hanging over the bed, which she had not noticed before. It was of an extremely comely witch, well-endowed, long-of-leg, wearing robes slit up to her hip and sliding off her shoulder. She was swooning against a gnarled tree, her hand raised to her brow. A raven perched on her shoulder, stark black against her flaming river of red hair. In the background, a single turret stood out against a turgid sky, and in the lighted window, Marianne made out the silhouette of a man. The inscription read, "The Potion Master's Muse."

"Good grief, if you're the Potion Master's Muse, I'm way out of my league!" Marianne exclaimed, despairing in the mirror at her unremarkable appearance.

"All the more reason you should listen to me," pouted the Muse. "Blue robes, now!"

"This is a lot of trouble for a man who doesn't particularly like me," Marianne grumbled as she pulled the garment out of the closet. "Don't you think these are too formal?" she appealed to the mirror.

"You talk too much," the mirror cheerfully replied.

The lecture was superb. Snape presented his research on the Wolfsbane potion to a rapt audience of nearly 400, and it seemed every one of them asked a question at the end. As she filed out of the cavernous hall with her students, she proudly registered the impressed buzz of her fellow attendants. Severus had done quite well and she was happy for him. For her part, she felt as though she had been given a full body massage. The pleasure of listening to Snape's rich baritone for an hour almost surpassed her interest in the subject itself.

At the reception that followed in the Mandarin Ballroom, Marianne wanted to congratulate her colleague, but he was constantly surrounded by a crowd of admirers. Unable to get within 3 yards of him, she instead spent the evening catching up with old friends from Healer training. By 11:30, she felt completely exhausted, so she said her goodnights and made her way towards the door.

"Mistress Murdoch." The deep, commanding voice reverberated through her belly and stopped her in her tracks. She turned with a smile and found Snape leaning casually against a column, brandy snifter in hand, surveying her with a slight sneer. "And just where are you sneaking off to?"

"Not sneaking, _leaving_," she corrected with a laugh, stepping closer to him. "I'm terribly tired. But I'm so glad to speak to you before I turn in. I know you've heard it from everyone else in the room, but really, that was a fantastic lecture you gave. You're quite a star."

His eyebrows peaked sardonically. "It's amazing how much more impressive my research has become since the Ministry declared me a war hero."

Marianne furrowed her brow. "Do you think that's why people are interested in your work?"

Severus shrugged. "Some people, perhaps." The sneer curling his lip relaxed into a friendlier half-smile. He took a sip of his drink and asked casually, "Are you going to bed right now?"

"After I check on the girls, I think so. Why?"

He shrugged. "I'd like to give you something. Stay up a little bit longer. I won't be more than half an hour."

"All right," Marianne agreed with a smile, her curiosity piqued. "I'll be in my room."

At five past twelve, Snape announced his presence with a sharp rap at the door. Marianne opened it to him, flushing a little under his approving gaze as he took in her black satin night robe. She stepped aside to let him in and he brushed past her, smelling of thyme and liquor.

"Do you want to sit down?" she offered, gesturing to an armchair by the hearth.

He shook his head. "I won't keep you up. I just wanted to give you this." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a slim book bound in soft beige leather, presenting it to her with a smirk and a bow.

"What is it?" she asked with an impish grin, tracing her fingers over the title embossed on the cover: _La Grotta Rosata_. Opening the volume, she scanned a few of the pages and glanced up questioningly. "Poetry?"

Snape nodded. "_Si, Signorina_. I picked it up for you in Italy. I thought you might like it."

Marianne was surprised, to say the least. "Oh I do! That's very thoughtful of you. But I'm afraid I can't read Italian."

Placing his hands on her upper arms, he narrowed his eyes slyly and leaned in close. "Then I'll have to read it to you," he murmured in her ear. He slowly dragged his jaw back across hers, gently scraping her skin with his stubble and pausing when he reached her mouth. She closed her eyes when she felt his lips brush across hers.

Marianne gasped as the tip of his tongue caressed her bottom lip, followed by his mouth. He sucked gently, then pressed his lips forward in a sensual, but brief kiss. "Good night, Mistress," he intoned with humor in his voice, before stepping out of the room.

"Merlin's beard!" Marianne panted, leaning against the wall. "What has gotten into him?"

"I told you the blue robes were a good idea," said the Muse.

Saturday, 8 August

Severus shut the door to Marianne's room and smirked triumphantly. His plan was coming along perfectly. He meant it when he said he intended to make Murdoch pay for her wretched interference, and once he realized she desired him, the path seemed clear. He would charm, beguile, and otherwise seduce her and then, right when he had had her hot and begging, he would pleasantly remind her that they were on a school function and any 'fraternization' would be inappropriate. That would teach the meddling minx.

Of course, it might require rather superhuman control to see the scheme to the end. Now that he was aware of the lady, he realized that she was, in her own way, quite attractive. Her lips were full and a little pouty, until they stretched into one of her warm, generous smiles. She cleaned up nicely, too, once divested of the frumpy attire she inexplicably favored. The sapphire robes she wore to the reception revealed she had been hiding a rather voluptuous figure. She was perhaps a bit heavier than was fashionable, but to a man who was usually forced to starve his eyes on the birch-thin bodies of adolescents, a womanly shape was a welcome sight. And then there was the way that she responded to him when he touched her, as if she were biting back moans of pleasure from the merest brush of his fingers. Severus Snape was not a vain man; in fact, he was probably the last person on earth to assume that any woman lusted after him. However, with Marianne, he could see it in her eyes, on her mouth, by the flush of her skin. Her body betrayed her and it excited him. He loved knowing he was in control.

Yes, it would be very hard indeed to throw on the brakes at the last moment, but he must do it to make his point. Besides, there was always the chance that he could seduce her again later. If she wanted him as badly as she seemed to, she couldn't stay mad forever.

With that happy thought in mind, he stalked down to the boys' room to perform the ridiculous requisite bed check. He knocked impatiently on the door and stood back. Nicodemus Snee opened it hastily, looking terrified.

"Is everyone in bed?" Snape said, glancing past the trembling boy into the lowly lit room.

"Eyad is in the sh-sh-shower, sir," Snee stammered, "and Zook and Fergus went to get ice."

Snape narrowed his eyes. He could hear the shower running, but something seemed odd. "You are all to be in your room at midnight. Why did they not simply use a freezing charm on the water from the tap?"

"Because Eyad's in the washroom, sir," Snee replied quickly, his voice trembling. "They should be back any minute, if you want to wait."

"No, I think I will go back to bed. But tomorrow night I expect you _all_ present and accounted for at midnight, do I make myself plain?"

"Yes, sir," he said, looking visibly relieved. "Good night, sir. See you at breakfast."

Snape sneered and turned away abruptly, heading back to his own room. He was unable to shake a nagging suspicion that Snee was lying, and his suspicions rarely proved false. On a whim, he turned back and knocked on Murdoch's door.

It took Marianne a full minute to answer, and when she did, her voice was thick with sleep. She must have been tired indeed, to have drifted off so quickly. As she opened the door to him, she pulled her silky black robe over her shoulder, giving him a momentary glimpse of the generous décolletage of her nightdress, before she wrapped the garment tightly around her and fastened the sash.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, hiding a yawn behind the back of her hand.

"Forgive me for waking you," he replied with a small bow. She smiled and shook her head, then yawned again. "When you checked on the girls for the evening, did you see all of them?"

Murdoch instantly appeared more awake. "No, actually. I only saw Morgan Teutlebaum. Kathleen was in the shower and Meredith was – "

"Getting ice?" Severus finished for her. Marianne widened her eyes in surprise. "Mistress, I believe we've been had."

While Marianne dressed, Snape had followed a second hunch and made for the stairwell, where he found Morgan and Nicodemus, dressed in the most outlandish get up, stealthily sneaking down the stairs.

"Just where do you think you're going?" The expressions on their faces as they turned towards his menacing growl afforded him some small measure of satisfaction. They looked as if they had pissed their strangely tight pants. "Back to your rooms. NOW!"

The pair jumped and scurried past, Morgan's blonde ponytail flying behind her. She wore on her wrists thick leather cuffs covered in metal studs and her eyes were heavily lined with kohl. Where on earth could they be going?

The question was soon answered. Morgan broke down quickly, sobbing out their plans to meet up with their compatriots at some sort of Muggle nightclub. Marianne seemed familiar with it.

"Really? They've gone to _Le Cafard_?" she asked with an incredulous grin. She replaced it with a more appropriate scowl upon noticing his sharp glare. "This is very wrong of you. If school were in session, I would suggest Professor Snape take points from your houses."

"And I intend to," Severus injected with a waspish smile, savoring the miserable looks on their sniveling faces. "On the very first day of term, I intend to take 50 points each from your houses for this little transgression, and you can report to Mr. Filch for detention immediately after the Welcoming Feast." Teutlebaum and Snee gaped at him in shock. He rather suspected it was the points more than the detentions that upset them. They were both Hufflepuffs, and their house would not thank them for causing them to start out the year 100 points in the hole.

"I think that sounds fair for all of the students, then," Marianne said firmly. Snape narrowed his eyes. Zookstaf Zim was a Slytherin. He did not particularly intend to hand his own house a deficit, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. At least he was the only Slytherin in the bunch.

"I am locking you in your respective rooms while Mistress Murdoch and I decide how to deal with your foolish little friends. Even I hear even a peep out of you, it will be more points and more detentions!"

He stood aside to let Murdoch and Teutlebaum pass and then slammed the door, placing an elaborate ward on it. Marianne placed a much simpler one on Morgan's room, but he did not really believe she would try to break it. Disgust filled him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He stalked over to Murdoch, looming above her menacingly.

"This is all your fault!" he snarled. She rolled her eyes and held up her hand, bringing the other to her temple.

"I don't even want to hear it!" she snapped. Severus glared in unpleasant surprise. "There's no point in standing out here sniping at each other. We've got to go get the students."

"I beg your pardon?" he said sharply. "I am _not_ setting foot in a Muggle club."

"Oh yes you are!" Murdoch retorted hotly. "We can't just let them get away with it, and I'm certainly not going by myself."

"Oh yes you are," Snape sneered, deliberately mocking her. "You wanted the little monsters here, now you can go and fetch them."

"They won't listen to me," Marianne acknowledged grudgingly. "I'm not even their teacher. I can't take points or anything. You, on the other hand, they are terrified of. We'll be back in 30 minutes if you come with me."

"I see," he replied, stepping closer to press his advantage. "And what do I get out of this little arrangement?"

Marianne glanced up in surprise, a smile gathering at the corner of her mouth. "What would you like?"

He quickly reached around her waist and pulled her up against him, gently grabbing her chin and tipping it up. "Is this what _you_ would like?" he hissed, his lips lightly brushing hers. Her dark eyes widened into surprised sepia pools and she stiffened. He brought his lips down and at first she simply stood there, not responding, as he molded his mouth to her plump lower lip, but then suddenly she gave in and kissed him back hard. She nipped and nuzzled, taking his tongue into her mouth and then giving hers, sucking and biting. Severus felt a stir of excitement in his groin as he plunged his tongue into the hot cavern of her mouth, exploring its geography with wolfish enthusiasm. Marianne matched him stroke for stroke, rising to the challenge they both knew he had issued. Startled by the power of her response, he broke away, breathing hard.

"I suppose that is what I'd like," she offered a little breathlessly, with a self-deprecating smile. "Will you come with me?"

"Will you come to me afterwards?"

"You know I will."

Inwardly, Severus smirked. He had her exactly where he wanted her now, although his plan of shutting her down at the critical moment seemed less and less appetizing. Perhaps he would just have her beg and plead and flatter before he finally gave in and shagged her rotten. His cock loved a good stroking as much as his ego; why not have both?

Marianne led and Severus followed down the grand marble staircase that opened into the hotel lobby. It was nearly one a.m. and the room was deserted, save a sweeping house elf and one sleepy looking bellhop. Murdoch headed for the door, but then pulled him aside.

"We better change into Muggle disguises."

Severus immediately pulled out his wand and transfigured his robes into his standard summer Mugglewear: black cotton pants and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt, also black with a faint grey stripe. Marianne looked him up and down and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Severus, but that just won't do!" she laughed.

"What's wrong with it?" he replied indignantly. "My research indicates this is perfectly acceptable Muggle attire!"

"If we were going for a midnight stroll along the Seine, sure, but _Le Cafard_ is a rock club. You look like you're going to hear a string quartet."

"Really," Snape replied, wholly unamused. "And how do you know so much about what one wears to a Muggle rock club?"

"My parents are Muggles," she answered with a grin, "and we used to spend summer holiday in Paris. I've probably seen 20 shows at this club. It's been a few years, but I think I could still pass." She tapped her wand on her robes and instantly they transformed into an outfit nearly as ludicrous the one Morgan had worn: a knee length dress with a black corseted top that caused her breasts to swell alarmingly above the red laces and an A-line skirt with a torn red crinoline peeking out from underneath the hem. The horror was completed by torn fishnet stockings and tall platform boots, adorned with about a thousand buckles.

"You look ridiculous," Snape growled, although privately he admitted there was something sexy about the complete style reversal she had undergone. The dress was anything but frumpy.

"If you don't watch your mouth, I'll put you in the exact same thing!" she snapped, pointing her wand at his trousers. He nearly flinched. His pants morphed into a pair much tighter than he would have ever imagined possible. Like Marianne's boots, they were covered in an unnecessary assortment of buckles, straps and chains.

"I supposed I'll not have to worry about wear to put my coins," he muttered, plucking bemusedly at one of the small pockets on his thigh.

"They're bondage pants," Marianne said, as if that explained everything. She transfigured his top into a short-sleeved, see-through, mesh – he would hardly call it a shirt, but perhaps Muggles would.

"Arrrrruff!" Severus glanced up in surprise at her lusty, guttural growl of approval. Marianne grinned. "You look very hot."

"I do not!" he snapped. "And I don't do short sleeves."

"Fine." She transfigured an empty garbage bag that the house elf left on the counter into a heavy leather jacket replete with more metal spikes than had any business on an article of clothing.

"I look like I wrestled with a metal porcupine," he grumbled.

"Shut your trap," she answered good-naturedly. "Let's go."

The throbbing, grinding beat of unbearably loud music instantly sparked a raging headache in Snape's temple as he slid past a long line of Muggles into the club, aided by an Invisibility Charm. Marianne pulled him behind a large metal pillar and discreetly reappeared. Snape followed suit, and took the opportunity to look around. The club contained easily the largest crowd of Muggles he had ever seen in his life, and they seemed to be of an odd sort. Many sported bizarre metal protuberances in their faces and enough tattoos to shame a sailor. Some wore outfits even more outrageous than his own, while others seemed infinitely more comfortable in jeans and T-shirts.

"Could I not have worn that?" he shouted in Marianne's ear, nudging her roughly and jerking his head in the direction of a young man slouching against the wall in baggy black jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

"You could have, but the women in the room are thanking me for my choice, and a few of the men as well, I'd wager." Murdoch smirked saucily and began winding her way through the crowd, looking for the students. Close on her heels, Snape scanned the gyrating mob, his irritation growing by the second. If he had his way, the imbeciles would spend the rest of the weekend chained to their beds, although by the look of the company they kept, that might not be much of a punishment.

As he pushed through the throng, a lily-white arm snaked around his waist, pulling him backwards. He automatically reached for his wand, but as he did, a pale, raven-haired woman slithered around his side and pulled up close to him, her deeply painted lips curved in a seductive smile. She whispered something in his ear, but between the pounding music and his imperfect French, he could not understand her. He gathered, however, from her body language, that it was some sort of sexual invitation. She was a very beautiful woman, and he had always felt a little curious about Muggles…Before he could entertain the thought further, Marianne insinuated herself between him and his new friend, running her slim fingers up his chest possessively and staring the interloper down.

"_Il est avec_ moi!" she snapped disdainfully. The pale vixen offered him a final smoldering glance and then shrugged delicately and slunk off. Marianne shook her head at him and gripped his hand firmly. "I think I saw Eyad at the bar."

Just then, Snape spied the unmistakable silhouette of the lanky, frizzy-haired Zookstaf Zim. He reached across a snogging couple and clamped his hand down firmly on the young man's shoulder. What color there was in Zim's faced quickly drained as he turned to face his very angry Head of House.

"You have exactly 5 minutes to round up your little friends and meet me outside the door, understood?" Snape snarled his request in his captive's ear and the boy nodded so earnestly, his head seemed in danger of bobbling off. Turning aside with disgust, he caught Marianne by the wrist and drew her close. "Zim will fetch the others."

"Good," Marianne growled, standing up on tiptoe and catching his earlobe in her teeth. "I'm quite ready to leave." Her hand slid casually underneath the filmy fabric of his shirt, gently caressing his stomach. He sucked in his breath and she wickedly dipped her fingers below the waistband of his trousers, following the dark trail of hair that lead to his rapidly swelling sex. Unfortunately, the damn pants were far too tight to allow either of them any room to continue. He caught her fingers and pulled them away, jerking her roughly through the crowd and pushing her through the exit door. Within minutes, the guilty party assembled, looking positively petrified.

"50 points each from your houses, detention starting the very first day of term, and if I hear a word out of any one of you before breakfast tomorrow, you'll serve your detention by helping me test antidotes." With a vicious sneer, Snape turned on his heel and began storming back in the direction of the hotel.

"Well, go on!" he heard Marianne snap. They marched in silence until they came within sight of "abandoned warehouse" that shielded the Dragon and Phoenix. Fergus Boot took that inopportune moment to get something off his chest.

"Mistress Murdoch, if you don't mind me saying so, that dress is ace!"

"Good grief, Fergus!" Marianne laughed.

Emboldened, the senseless little jackanapes pressed on. "Really, Mistress. You're quite fit!"

"And you're quite stupid, Boot," Snape said icily over his shoulder. "Unless you're particularly eager to become my lab rat, for once in your life, hold your tongue!"

He halted in front of the boarded-up door to the warehouse and tapped his wand in a star-shaped pattern on the rotted wood.

"_Soirée enchantée_," he said, feeling his night had been anything but. The door rippled almost imperceptibly and he stepped through, waiting irritably in the lobby for the others to follow. Under his scowling supervision, the rag-tag bunch of Muggle wannabes scurried up the stairs to their rooms and quickly retired. Once he had locked them in, he turned to Marianne, who leaned against the wall, yawning.

"Are you ready to make amends?" he purred, pleased by the color that rose to her cheeks at the sound of his voice. He could not help but notice that though her eyes sparkled lasciviously, they were shadowed by delicate purple rings. She looked randy, but tired.

"My room or yours?" she murmured.

"Yours, it's closer."

Once inside, Marianne lost no time in pushing him against the wall and capturing his lips with her own. Their tongues intertwined impatiently, frantically almost, as she pushed the heavy leather jacket from his shoulders and let it fall with a muffled thud. Severus caught her face in his hands and took control of the kiss, slowing down her feverish pace with measured, sensual strokes of his tongue.

She moaned contentedly, drawing her hands down his chest to stroke his nipples through the thin mesh material that covered them. Her ministrations sent an electric shock straight to his groin and he felt his erection press against the tight trousers. He slowly lowered his hands from her face, dragging his fingertips lightly along her golden collarbone, across her smooth, bare shoulders, and down her arms. Marianne leaned back and looked up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded and hazy with desire. She smiled languorously with swollen lips and ducked her head down to swipe his nipple with her tongue.

Severus sucked in a painful breath and leaned back against the wall, allowing her better access. She smoothed the silky mesh against his skin and clamped her mouth down, encasing the hard peak in soft, wet pressure. Lifting her head slightly, she blew cool air and then flicked lightly with the tip of her tongue before swirling it generously around his nipple again. The combination of her hot little mouth and the slick slide of his shirt left him panting.

He wrapped his fingers in her hair and pulled backwards, swooping down on his target ravenously. Catching her plump lower lip in his teeth, he sucked and nibbled, while his fingers impatiently tore at the laces which restrained the tawny breasts he could suddenly no longer wait to taste. Marianne gave back, sliding her tongue against his teeth as her hands worked their way up his thighs. She grunted in satisfaction as she discovered the straining bulge of his arousal and ran her fingers up and down its length, causing him to hiss with pleasure.

Having undone her dress to the waist, Severus took a moment to admire the sight before him. The low candlelight danced across the smooth skin of her breasts and stomach, casting a bronze glow on her summer tan. Her rosy nipples were already hard and erect before he even touched them, and she brought one hand up to caress her left breast lazily as she tipped her head up for another kiss.

"That's my job," he murmured reprovingly, capturing her hand and kissing the palm before dropping it carelessly and reaching for the tempting orbs. She fairly purred with satisfaction as he rubbed the hard peaks with his thumbs, trailing wet kisses down her neck to the hollow of her shoulder. "Get this ridiculous dress off," he commanded.

Marianne lost no time in complying, wriggling out of the offending garment so that it dropped at her feet. She stood in the puddle of fabric clad only in a garter belt, torn fishnets, and those formidable boots.

"Lose the boots." No sooner than he asked, it was done.

Now he had something to work with. She looked absolutely delectable sitting on the bed, her shapely legs encased in the naughty stockings, her hips girded with the lacy lingerie. He noted with pleasure that she wore no knickers under the belt – one less barrier between him and his intended destination. She pushed herself backwards on the damask counterpane into a supine position, offering him a brief glimpse of her pink center before she folded her knees to the side and reclined against the thick pillows.

"Are you going to join me, or should I get started without you?"

The offer was tempting, but Snape quickly thrust himself onto the bed, pulling her close. He grabbed her by the hips and dipped his head down to lick her stomach, swirling his tongue across the gentle curve and working his way up to her breasts. She arched her back and sighed, raking her fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp with her fingertips. He teased her nipples with his teeth and tongue, deliberately withholding the onslaught he knew she was trembling for.

"Do you want me?" he hissed in her ear.

"Yesssss," she hissed back, reaching around to grab the firm flesh of his buttocks.

"How long have you desired me?"

"Since the first time I saw you," she confessed unashamedly, looking him straight in the eye. She raised her mouth to his chin and planted a lingering kiss, and then bestowed another under his jaw and another at the hollow of his throat. "Are you going to make me beg for it?"

"I might," he admitted smugly, lightly brushing his fingertips along the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Her dark eyes glowed hungrily and she parted her legs, silently begging him to stroke her sex. He traced one finger along the warm juncture of her legs, carefully but just barely skirting her slick passage. She gasped and then bit her lip against the ticklish, erotic stirring of the dark hair that cloaked her throbbing center, caused by his fingers in their circumspect wandering.

"Snape, you're killing me," she groaned, reaching for the heavy snaps that fastened his trousers.

"I told you vengeance is sweet," he murmured, grabbing her wrists and holding them above her head.

"Indeed," she sighed, closing her eyes and settling back against the pillows, apparently content to let him have his way. Snape was momentarily startled by her unreserved trust in him; he would never allow someone to restrain him during a first encounter. Marianne however, seemed completely relaxed. Her swollen lips were softly parted and her pulse flickered in her throat, but her face held no hint of tension. He noticed with regret, however, that even the thick fringe of lashes against her cheek could not hide the circles of exhaustion under her eyes. A brief battle between conscience and cock yielded conscience the victor when a glance at his watch revealed that it was nearly three o'clock; if he left now, she could get at least 4 hours of sleep. It looked as though he would see his plan through after all, despite his worst intentions.

"Goodnight, Mistress," he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on her mouth. Marianne's eyes flew open and her posture shifted instantly for languid to furious.

"You're leaving?" she cried angrily.

He rose from the bed and shrugged regretfully. "It's late, and you give the first lecture tomorrow. You need your sleep. If only your little hooligans hadn't led us on that goosechase…" He let the words trail off into a satisfied smirk.

"You're doing this to punish me!" Her face darkened with fury and she folded her arms defensively across her bare chest, scowling at his midsection. He realized she was embarrassed and that he didn't want her to be.

"Perhaps, but I'm paying the price as well," he reminded her with a rueful glance at his obvious erection. "It is simply too late to continue, Mistress. I suggest we have the brats in bed by ten o'clock tomorrow night." He transfigured his clothes back into his usual robes and began fastening his cuffs.

"What makes you think I'll still want you tomorrow?" she snapped resentfully, but he saw a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"You will," he growled forcefully, leaning down and catching her lips with his. She immediately opened to him and he plunged his tongue in, while at the same time reaching between her thighs and stroking her quivering quim. She shuddered as he thrust one long finger inside of her, matching the movement of his tongue. The wet heat of her tight sheath nearly forced him to reconsider his decision, but with a muttered curse, he tore away from her mouth and withdrew his hand.

"You had better," he warned. "You owe me."

"I'd say we both have debts to fulfill," she replied grumpily, tossing a pillow at him. "Now get out before I take you by force."

Snape's frustrated cock jerked at that delicious threat. "Until tomorrow, Mistress."

He let himself out of the room and made haste to his own quarters, barely slamming the door behind him before he leaned against it and freed his throbbing member. As he vented his desire into his palm, he considered with relish the myriad of ways in which he would exact his payback from Mistress Murdoch. Surely one night of pleasure could not countermand the horror of the past 20 hours. He would have to punish her long into the school year. Vengeance, indeed.

Author's Note: This is my first fic ever, so I thank you for reading it and humbly request your honest opinion. I am considering adding a second chapter detailing the fulfillment of the debts.


End file.
